


Ladybug

by relic_amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Other, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: You come home, weighed down by a long day. Chuck knows how to make you light again.





	Ladybug

**Author's Note:**

> Chuck/Reader fluffy drabble that says nothing, really, it’s just cuteness because Chuck. Attempted gender-neutral but didn't quite make it. Depends on how you feel about being called a ladybug, I guess. No gendered pronouns/parts described, I just don't want to lead people astray. Cross-posted to Tumblr.

 

You dump your bag on the coffee table and roll your shoulders. The house is dark and messy, like normal, but for some reason there’s a weight to the air you can’t quite place. Or maybe it’s you. But then there’s a clacking and clattering coming from the kitchen, heavy key strokes stuttering for a moment before becoming the methodical, rhythmic sound of a writer lost to the world, and you feel just a bit lighter as the day slowly begins to slide off of you.

You follow the sound and turn the corner to see Chuck sitting, working at the dining table. He’s been on a typewriter kick lately, switching between one or the other or another. The sounds vary but mostly remain the same and it has become a standard, soothing thing. A reminder that you’re home.

You go around the room, picking up here and there. A mug of cold coffee, a napkin covered in crumbs and stale pieces of crust, a small pile of trashed pages, likely from before Chuck remembered he can just ‘fix’ minor issues. You roll your eyes. The feel of a typewriter with the powers of a god. When he started this obsession you were a little sad you had missed out on that Kickstarter for that typewriter-styled computer keyboard, but then Chuck proved he was fine with cheating (even though he took umbrage with the term) and life resumed as normal. Just, with some more sound.

You go back to sit at the table, across from Chuck and to the side so if he looks up he can’t miss you. He doesn’t move his eyes off the page though and as the minutes tick by you’re only more and more amused. For a guy who brags about the efficiency of omniscience, he sure can fixate when he wants to.

He shifts and glances up, catching your attention and you notice it’s a lot darker than it was just a moment ago. Or what feels like a moment ago. Chuck smiles and blinks a few times. “Hey. When did you get here?”

You look at the clock. Okay, so maybe it’s been quite a few moments. Still, you say, “A little bit ago.”

Chuck’s smile turns into an amused smirk. “You were staring at me this whole time?”

“I wanted to see how long until you noticed me. Then I think I started dozing with my eyes open.” You tap the platen. “I like this one. It’s relaxing”

“I like it too.” He leans back and stretches, flashing a bit of stomach you’d poke if you were closer. He gets up and comes to stand next to you, holding out his hand. “Looks like we both could use a break. Come on.”

“What do you have in mind?” you ask but take his hand and follow without waiting for an answer. He’s never led you wrong. Right now he leads you to the couch. Only, instead of letting you lie down first, he sits and tugs you closer. You barely catch yourself from falling onto his lap by bracing one knee on the cushion and holding the back of the couch.

He frowns up at you and holds your sides. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” You feel stupid for thinking it, because Chuck isn’t just _Chuck_ , and you know that and accept that and he’s held you before, but for some reason you just feel so heavy today. Too heavy. “I just…just don’t wanna crush you.”

His eyebrows go up almost to his hairline and yeah, now that you think of it, it’s definitely stupid, but–

He snorts and hauls you closer to straddle his lap. “I could be pinned under a cruise ship, act as a fulcrum for three of the heaviest buildings on the planet, while at the bottom of the Marianas Trench, and still come out fine. You are a–…a…”

“Fly?” you ask dryly.

“Ladybug,” he says with utmost confidence, but then squints in thought. “Ladybugs are cute, right?”

You laugh and lean in to kiss him. As you press down, all he does is moan as the feel of your body against his. And then he’s moaning into you, and you suppress the urge to do the same. His mouth is warm and soft and feels like home, and you sigh and relax into familiar comfort.

However it isn’t long into it that Chuck laughs. And laughs again, a little harder so that you pull your face back. “What?” you ask, smiling, because his amusement is infectious. “Should I be offended?”

“No, no, it’s– it’s nothing,” he says, still laughing.

“You are such a dork.”

“Hey,” he says, tapering down. Once he has control again he narrows his eyes in challenge and says, “A _dork_?”

You stare right back, grinning defiantly. “Are we gonna go because I called you a dork?”

“Those are fightin’ words,” he says and twists you both so that your back is on the couch and he’s hovering above you.

“Then let’s get ready to rumble,” you say and arch up to nip his neck. He lets loose a full body shudder, one you can see in his shoulders and feel in his legs that are thoroughly tangled with yours. As he comes down, though, you find you don’t care much about your legs right now. It doesn’t look like you’ll be needing them anytime soon.

 

 

When all is said and done, you sigh and scoot closer to him, content and comfortable in the bed you share. Instantaneous teleportation to your room– one of the unsung perks of sleeping with Chuck.

“Ladybugs are cute.” You put your arms up above your head and stretch. “Lucky. You make wishes on ‘em.”

Chuck rumbles soft amusement. “Wishes, huh?”

“Mm hm. You make one before they fly away.”

“Hm.” He turns to face you and drapes his arm over your stomach. “It’s a good thing I don’t need wishes, then.”

You press a kiss to his head, burying your face in his fluffy, floppy hair and inhaling for a moment before you snuggle into him. “‘S okay; I’d always come back,” you murmur. “Make as many wishes as you want.”

“Not gonna risk it,” he whispers and you feel him kiss your forehead just before you drift off. 


End file.
